#alpha foxtrot one

[glacierclear]

You have a post on Twitter saying that the foxtrot game would be coming out next year set for a few years ago. Is stuff still happening with that? (Also you're one of my favorite, not safe for work and monster artists and your is really inspiring in terms of just getting me into drawing again as well as just decent anatomy reference I love your stuff)

hello!!! :33 yes we are still working on it. i never really stated a proper "release date" really ,,, i merely intended on starting it haha. i'm not entirely sure when it will properly release...that thing happened that inevitably happens on indie projects where the scope and vision changed a lot and we're adding more features than i originally planned for :) which is good! but also. .... it's taking longer.... but, i'm really crossing my fingers that we release a playable alpha demo this year!!! and then it'll be a slow road to a potential kickstarter if the demo is received well!!! :) i should honestly post more things about it but i forget to post updates and worry that sharing too much is a bad habit ... (which is not true at all)

ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE COMPLIMENT!! i'm glad i can inspire you :) lets hold hands and draw together in spirit!!!!

[ragingbookdragon]

She pulled the stick hard to the right, managing to avoid a too close missile. Curses echoed from around the cockpit, half thrown her way, the other their enemy. “Midnight!” Ghost yelled from the seat next to her. “Get us out of here!”

“I’m trying!” she yelled back. “I fly F-18’s, Simon! Not helos! This is a little different than my day-to-day flight!” she pushed forward, urging the speed to increase as she looked behind her. “Jesus, how did we even get here? What did you guys even do!”

Soap was in the back, strapped in, eyes shut tight, muttering, “Fuck we’re dead. We’re gonna die.”

Alejandro was screaming expletives in Spanish.

Rudy was holding his rosary and repeating hail Mary’s.

“Midnight!” Ghost urged again, and she looked down at the device in her hand.

“Five miles is all we’ve got!” she looked at him. “Open a comm! Switch it to 17.75.”

“What!”

“Do it now!” he did so, and she heard the flicker of voices. “NAS CC, this is Midnight, service number O-six-nine-two-five-eight-one. We are currently engaged in air combat with an enemy of the State.” She looked back. “Repeat NAS CC, this is O-six-nine-two-five-eight-one, I have Mexican and British Special Forces aboard this aircraft, requesting air support.”

O-six-nine-two-five-eight-one, this is NAS CC, we have established contact with base command, fighters are en-route to your location. How do you copy?

“I’m about to cross over.”

ETA on fighters, five minutes.

She gave a huff of relief and reached over, flicking the channels. “Members of El Sin Nombre, you are currently engaged in unauthorized warfare on United States Military personnel.”

An angered voice came over the comm back at her. Nononononono! You engaged us! Estúpidas malditas fuerzas especiales mexicanas!

“Repeat, you are engaged in unauthorized warfare on United States Military personnel.” Her eyes dropped to the screen, and with a smirk, she declared, “Over United States airspace.” She looked at Ghost, the other men in the cabin, suddenly keying in that they were saved. “Alpha, Mike, Foxtrot!”

Ghost’s eyes widened and he shouted, “In other words, Adiós motherfu—”

Missiles sunk around their helo to the one coming behind them, the explosion rattling the inside of the cabin. Soap reached forward and grabbed her shoulders. “I FUCKING LOVE YOU, MIDNIGHT!”

She patted his hand as she followed the fighters back. “You all owe me! This just cost a favor from command to do this!”

O-six-nine-two-five-eight-one, fighters are returning to base. Do you copy?

“I copy, NAS CC,” she said. “I’ll need a transport to pick up the special forces.”

Copy. Runway three is open and waiting for descent.

She flicked the comm off and tapped her mic. “See, Colonel, the US Navy isn’t so bad after all.”

Alejandro groaned into the headset. “Nunca quiero pasar el rato con ustedes tres nunca más. Dios mío.”

“Aww, don’t hurt my feelings, Ale,” she cooed. “I’m much better at hanging out than these guys are.”

[idontknowreallywhy]

WIP-just-because-it’s-the-first-thing-longer-than-a-sentence-I’ve-written-in-a-week…

If this ever makes it into the story, it’s a long way ahead. But as a wise nut once said, inspiration is inspiration and I need to kickstart the muse somehow…

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They both fell silent as the plane approached the border. Estera felt the jet shudder slightly as Scott shifted the power to the VTOL engines and hovered in mid air above the invisible line that marked the threshold between There and everywhere else.

“Border Control. Please confirm your identity and purpose in the Democratic Republic of Bereznik.”

She bit her lip against the rush of nausea The voice wasn’t unfriendly - there was no reason for it to be. This was peacetime. It had been so for eight years. And yet the inflection… hearing the words of her native language in that accent was never going to be comfortable. Scott’s reply, though acceptably fluent Polish, was equally accented but unsurprisingly she found the American twang far easier to stomach than the other.

“This is Tango-Tango-Golf-Two-Seven-One-Bravo, arriving in accordance with registered flight plan One-Seven-Zero-Eight-Six-Two-Foxtrot-One-Alpha. Request permission to proceed.”

There was a pause. Estera realised she was holding her breath but found she couldn’t remember how to breathe. Wasn’t that supposed to be automatic?

She turned her head to check on Scott, who, aroused by the movement from whatever thoughts had been occupying him looked back and gave what was clearly intended to be a calm, encouraging little smile.

The mask was on. Most people would have been fooled by it. But she saw the tension in his jaw, the complete absence of lines on his forehead or at the corners of his eyes which proved how hard he was concentrating on keeping his emotions off his face.

She reached over and rested her fingertips on the back of his left hand, whether primarily to ground him or herself she couldn’t be sure. She was finally able to release the breath she was holding as she felt his tendons relaxing the vice grip on the controls. He covered her hand with his right, squeezed a little and seemed on the point of speaking but jumped back to attention as the official voice interrupted

“Thank you Tango-Tango-Golf-Two-Seven-One-Bravo, you are clear to proceed. Have a safe journey.”

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[righteous-r0de0]

I'm Gonna Get Out of Here Someday

i changed a couple things from the snippet, incl the pov and some of the wording but here's the full first chapter

(ao3 link and full chapter below the cut ;))

ao3

For as long as you could remember, you’d been compelled to run. 

Run until your lungs burned and your feet broke through the soles of the cheap shoes that had been passed down to you by older adoptees. Run until you found the rocky shores and keep going, as if you could outrun the salty wind that blew in from the sea. As if you could keep up with the battering waves that altered the coastline until it was altogether unfamiliar to you. Then, you would run back, day after day until it was familiar again, only to one day find it completely new. 

You would climb to the top of the dunes and yell until your voice gave out. Most days, that salty wind would whip the sound straight from your lungs and carry it far, far away. Some days, a break in the wind and waves would cause the surfers down below to cast wary glances up the dunes, as though some sort of wraith was inhabiting them and sending war cries down to the shore. 

You were no wraith, but you were a monster. Andrea had told you so. Beast, brute, monster. They all meant the same thing. That you were a problem and fundamentally incapable of giving or receiving anything good. 

You were young, too young to be trusted in the gas station by yourself, let alone to be running through the woods of coastal Washington on your own. But the wet air and mossy trees were the only home you’d ever known. That three bedroom apartment with yelling voices, a giant barking dog, and a dilapidated ceiling wasn’t home and it never had been. Hell, that dog was treated better than you were. At least it didn’t have to share its bed with toddlers that kicked and cried all night long.

 Something had always been inside you. Something that wasn’t quite human, but not entirely animalistic either. Something that caused you to bristle when you were backed into a corner or when Mike grabbed you by the back of your neck. Something that cried to protect what was yours, hide your things away so no one else could find them. Something with an instinct to run, run, run. Something was inside you and it wanted out. 

You were twelve and you were a monster. 

—

Delta was the name you’d been given, when you’d been taken in by Andrea and her fiance, Mike. Delta, D, fourth letter, fourth kid. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been called by your given name, not that you had any sense of ownership of it in the first place. Ahead of you were Alpha, Bravo and Charlie, though Alpha had left for college the year before. You’d half expected the whole lineup to be shifted and you’d suddenly be Charlie, but that was one thing Andrea had been merciful about. You’d be Delta until you left her care. Behind you was Echo and Foxtrot, who were five and two respectively. 

When you moved in, you found the military names to be startlingly impersonal and a little cheesy, but Mike had been discharged from the air force and had insisted it was easier for him to remember than anything unique. Not that he was ever home to remember that he had five children to take care of. He was always at the factory or at the bar. He only came home for dinner and a place to sleep. And he sometimes found that passing out drunk in a ditch was preferable to his living situation. As far as you could tell, he hadn’t been on board with the whole adoption idea. 

You’d never known any of the kids’ given names, aside from your own. And you weren’t entirely sure that they did either. You tried to talk to Charlie about it once, being closest in age to her, but she’d just given you a look that screamed ‘don’t ask me that’ and quickly retreated to the room she shared with Bravo.

You were the only kid that bucked the system, the only kid that fought back. You asked questions and said bad words like ‘no’ and ‘why’ when you were told to do something. You were the only kid that didn’t let yourself be pushed around or walked all over. 

You’d like to say that school was a different story, but it really wasn’t. Unless you managed to get yourself into trouble (which happened from time to time), you were largely ignored. The only difference was you didn’t have to fight for the shitty food they put on your plate at lunch time. And the lunch ladies were kind enough to look the other way when you stuffed anything pre-packaged into the pockets of the oversized jacket that never left your back. 

—

It wasn’t anything new or special that triggered it. When you’d woken up, everything felt tightly wound, ready to snap at any moment. You considered faking sick to stay home, but even when you were sick, you were expected to take care of the toddlers. If you were home, you needed to be asleep or useful. So when the bus picked you up in the morning, you sat in the front row and pulled your hood up over your head and squeezed your eyes shut so tight that it hurt. You clenched your fists too and when you got off the bus, what you thought had been sweat turned out to be a thin layer of blood from shallow cuts in the meat of your palms. The tips of your nails were stained reddish-brown. You washed it off before anyone could see. 

That tight, pressurized feeling only got worse as the day wore on. Everything was bright and loud and grating on every sense you had. Even smells were getting to you. Preteens didn’t smell great on the best of days and right before summer break, when everything was hot and humid again was anything but the best of times. Every form of stimulation felt amplified, turned up to 11. And it wasn’t long before that annoyance turned to anger, your old friend. It burned, hot like coals, at the back of your throat. 

When lunch rolled around, you grabbed your food, shoved a handful of granola bars in your pocket and resigned yourself to the farthest corner of the room, right in front of an emergency exit. You tore into your food, suddenly aware of how hungry you were. When your food was gone, the tight feeling eased a bit, but everything was loud, too loud. You lay your head down on the table for a few minutes and when you felt comfortable enough to lift it again, there was a boy. You recognized him, he was in your grade. 

He was talking. He must have been. His lips were moving, but you couldn’t pull his voice apart from any other voice in the room. Everything sounded like it was underwater and your head was swimming dangerously. He paused, looking at you expectantly. You opened your mouth but all you could get out was a weak, “Huh?”. The boy smiled kindly and started speaking again, then paused, clearly expecting a response. When you didn’t give him what he was looking for, he frowned, maybe concerned? It was hard to tell. But then, he smiled again, waving his hand in a ‘come on’ motion and reached for your backpack next to you. Your backpack full of all your things and extra food.

The tight feeling snapped. Everything was suddenly in startling clarity and you felt more focused than you had all day. You felt like someone had pulled cotton from your ears. The logical part of your brain reasoned that maybe your backpack was in the way, that he was trying to reach something behind it or get past it. But the something in your head was in control now. You felt your skin stretch and move, like the something was trying to get out, but couldn’t quite figure out how. Then you growled, honest to god growled, your chest rumbling with the effort. You darted between the boy and your things. 

It happened quickly. In the blink of an eye, the boy was on the ground, curling in on himself and clutching the back of his head where it had smacked against the polished concrete flooring. And the whole room was silent and staring. The something backed down, like it was satisfied with what it had done. You lowered your lip where it had been raised, flashing flat teeth at the boy. They’d felt so big a moment ago, you’d felt so big. 

Your heart pounded. But you couldn’t show these people you were scared. They’d walk all over you. So you grabbed your bag, slung it over your shoulder and stomped out of the room, towards the front office before any teachers could grab you and drag you there themselves. 

—

The tight feeling was back. 

You were staring down at your taped up shoes and your backpack between your feet. Foxtrot was crying in the backseat and Echo’s iPad was turned all the way up, the sound of her cartoons filling the van. Andrea was scolding you, but it was hard to pick apart exactly what she was saying. You felt like the cotton had been stuffed back in your ears. Everything was loud, but dull, making your head pound. Every single smell that had ever seeped into the fabric seats was swimming around your head. Stale fries, spoiled milk, and cigarette smoke. A cigarette always hung from Andrea’s hand, like it was a part of her. She held it near the open window but smoke still wafted around her head and yours. It was probably why Foxtrot was crying. You’d snagged a couple before, when your heart beat so fast you couldn’t see straight and your hands shook. You always kept a lighter in your pocket. 

When the van finally pulled into the driveway, you were out and flying down the long driveway between the mailboxes and the apartment complex before it even stopped. You could hear Andrea shouting, but you slammed the door in her face and ran. It seemed like the only option. You didn’t trust yourself around the little kids after what had happened. And you were scared if the anger kept burning through you like it was, you’d do something to Andrea next. So you ran. 

The more you ran, the more the tight feeling increased and the anger raised higher and higher. Your bag slapped against your back. You’d almost growled like some wild animal at the principal and counselors as they searched it. They’d taken all your extra food and everything else you hoarded away for future use.

“It wasn’t my fault,” You told yourself. “It was the something, and the something isn’t me.”

You stopped in a clearing and tore off your bag and jacket. You felt as though your skin was moving and stretching again. And deep in the woods, you weren’t afraid to cry out. Voice your confusion and frustration. Even if anyone could hear you, it wasn’t like they would care. You screamed every curse word you knew and then just yelled. You pounded your small fists into tree trunks until blood welled to the surface and dripped down your fingers. Embarrassingly enough, tears started flowing too, clinging to your jaw and making your nose run. 

Nothing helped.

Finally, you fell to your knees, not caring if pine sap got on the hand-me-downs. Overwhelming pain rippled through your body, unstopping. The feeling pooled in your jaw, behind your eyes and the tips of your fingers. You clenched your eyes shut and another strangled yell tore from your throat. The pain lingered and some of it turned to nausea. You coughed hoarsley, but nothing came up. Everything itched and burned and, and, and…

And it was all gone. You were no longer in the body of the child you were. Everything was loud, but not overwhelming. Every scent on the wind was clear to you. When you opened your eyes, the vibrant greens of the forest had dulled though the sky was every bit as blue as it had been. Your breaths started catching in your chest as you struggled to get enough air. 

You were in a body, but not yours.

Andrea was right. 

Andrea and Mike and every counselor and every adult that had ever even tried to get to know you was right. 

And you were wrong. 

You were a monster. You were the something that had always been in you.  And the something was a wolf.

tags:

@professionallyyappinabtangst

@themeridian

@dukecollinsbf

[dewitty1]

Fic Recs Wrap Up - September 2023 (ノﾟ∀ﾟ)ノ⌒･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*☆

Salt on the Western Wind by Saras_Girl

When the war isn’t quite as over as it first appears, a guilt-ridden Harry is sent to a mysterious safe-house. Among sandwiches, insomnia, and Mills & Boon, he discovers something quite unexpected. Rec Post

Transfigurations by Resonant

Five years after Voldemort’s defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts. Rec Post

The Arc of the Pendulum by brummell (actualite)

After his father casts a mysterious curse on Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is forced to try to make things right. Rec Post

The Lily Spell by pickledghost

Harry Potter is one of the most handsome and sought after alphas on the Hogwarts Higher Education Programme. Draco Malfoy on the other hand, is the Seventh Year omega son of deceased Death Eaters and is widely ignored and shunned by his peers. Harry doesn’t even know Draco exists until he discovers that the younger boy is pregnant with his baby thanks to a spell gone wrong. Rec Post

Kiss the Joy (Until the Sun Rise) by ICMezzo  @icmezzo

The Room of Requirement was severely damaged in the war, but not so much that it could not provide for one lost student and another young hero—especially when they needed each other most of all. Rec Post

Night Magic by Kbrick @kbrick

Eighth Year isn’t what Draco or Harry expected. Harry’s horribly lonely in the aftermath of his breakup with Ginny, Draco’s stuck in a clandestine friends-with-benefits situation with a closeted Blaise, and neither one of them can ever get any bloody sleep. But when our favorite boys bond over their insomnia-related woes, things start looking up. Rec Post

The Sun in Summer (Presto Pizzicato) by Cannibalschism @cannibalschism

Harry Potter is an orphan. Everyone knows this, him most of all. Taken in by the agoraphobic and ancient Dowager Viscountess Cassiopeia Black, Harry’s musical aptitude was evident even from a young age. He has trained all his life to perform in front of a noble audience and step upon the shoulders of giants. To be known for his accomplishment and skill. To be great. And he will do anything to achieve that goal. Draco Malfoy is an orphan. He hasn’t been as such for very long, however. Known as the Instrumenteur, Draco runs a modest shoppe in lower Diagon Alley where he creates and repairs musical instruments. The Viscountess Cassiopeia Black stole everything from him the night of his parents’ fatal accident. When Harry Potter, the orphan that wretched woman took in even as she cast out her own blood, proposes the most ludicrous of schemes that might just get Draco his stolen title and life back, who is he to decline? In a time of galas, secrets, corsets, and symphonies, can love prevail over all else? Rec Post

WHISKY-TANGO-FOXTROT by Vukovich @vukovich

“Potter,” Malfoy said with a slow smile. “You’re a trashy, new money slut.” “Yeah? Maybe you like it.” – The worst thing about being the Golden Boy is the freebies. Free drinks. Easy sex. It’s all too easy. The worst thing about being a Malfoy is the expectations. Marriage. Kids. It’s all so scripted. Harry wants his arse kicked. Draco decides to grab life by the balls. Rec Post

Here are a few more fics I've read recently that y'all might like to check out as well! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

A True Entanglement by Booktopus @thebooktopus

One moment, Harry was minding his own business, going about his workday, and the next, he found himself being dragged across the Ministry by a red string that had somehow curled up in a pretty little bow around his wrist. A story of fate, smut, falling in love, and a string named Harold.

Fire Meet Gasoline by lettersbyelise @lettersbyelise

When Draco’s anger management issues land him in St Mungo’s, he thinks his Quidditch career is over. But Harry, A&E Healer and notorious workaholic, is faced with a similar predicament. To save their jobs, the two of them decide to fake a relationship. All they have to do is convince their friends and employers… and not fall in love in the process. Simple, right?

Everything is Relative to You by honeybeet @thehoneybeet

Potter was supposed to have lived. Draco is certain of this. That Potter would no longer walk the earth was tantamount to the sun moving west to east across the sky. If only he could have stopped this from happening, if he’d have known… It comes to him as ideas often did: too late. Or, Harry dreams of his past lives, and Draco is in every one.

we'll keep the king by BlueSundayCake @bluesundaycake

On a cold December morning, Remus Lupin shows up on Severus Snape's doorstep with a child with very familiar eyes.

Evitative by Vichan

In the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts, Harry is drawn to a room in Grimmauld Place. Like the Gryffindor he is, he enters the room without fear. The room is a library, and Harry is surprised to find that he’s eager to learn. Then he gets the bad news: he’s been accidentally expelled from Hogwarts, and he needs to be sorted again. Everyone is confident that he’ll go straight back to Gryffindor, but with what he's been learning, Harry’s not so sure.

The White Pawn by Soupy_George

When eighteen-year-old Draco Malfoy finds himself back at Hogwarts on the eve of Voldemort's infamous return, he is confronted with the most difficult decision he's ever had to make: Relive the 6th year at school he's tried so hard to forget, or do the unthinkable and ally himself with Potter's lot...

( •ॢ◡-ॢ)-♡ I hope you enjoy these fics as much as I have! Happy reading, y’all! xoxo, Carey  (◍•��•◍)♡ ✧*💜💙💚💛❤💗💕💖

[frownyalfred]

bruce and clark doing a romantic waltz while jason has to forcibly drag lex into a foxtrot (one of the most difficult and demanding ballroom dances btw) so he'll be too busy trying not to fall on his face instead of threatening to tear some asshole alpha's throat out

Lex muttering threats at every alpha they pass and swirl by which Jason ignores and tries to push out happypacksafe at Lex who huffs, clears his nose, and looks away in disgust. No he isn't happy or safe. The pack pup is getting leered at. He's going to tear someone's knot off if they get too close. God forbid they ask Jason for a dance next.

[mentalisttraceur]

Speaking Hexadecimal

Fluently and Unambiguously

I previously proposed a way of saying hexadecimal numbers clearly and efficiently in English, but that was only good for situations where it was otherwise unambiguous that the numbers were in base-16, and it still had some room for getting "wires crossed" with base-10. Now I finally have a proposal I'm satisfied with to finish the job:

We first add distinct words for the six extra "digits":

A is alf, B is brav, C is char, D is delt, E is eck, and F is fost. These are based on the pronunciation of the first six NATO phonetic alphabet words: "alpha", "bravo", "charlie", "delta", "echo", and "foxtrot", except that: we simplify "foxt" to "fost" to make it easier to say, we change the spelling of "alph" to make it more accessible to people not familiar with English's "ph", and the spelling of "eck" makes it obvious that it's a K sound, not a CH sound.

Then we replace "-ty" with "-tex". "-tex" is meant to be evocative of "hex", but the "t" fits the pattern of English number words better:

So 20 in hexadecimal is twentex, not "twenty". 21 is twentex-one, 22 is twentex-two, and so on. 2A is twentex-alf, 2B is twentex-brav, and so on. 30 is thirtex, 31 is thirtex-one, [...], 3A is thirtex-alf, and so on. Fortex, fiftex, sixtex, seventex, eightex, ninetex, alftex, bravtex, chartex, deltex, ecktex, and fostex.

English has special words for 10-19, but we can just use the same regular pattern in hexadecimal for 10-1F as for 20-FF. So 10 is ontex. It's "ontex" and not "onetex" to match the speed and distinctiveness that we get with twenty, thirty, forty, and fifty having slightly different pronunciations and spellings versus two, three, four, and five. 11 is ontex-one, 12 is ontex-two, 13 is ontex-three, and so on.

100 is "hunhex". This continues the mnemonic pattern - English number word, with a hexadecimal-hinting ending. 101 is "one hunhex and one," or just "hunhex and one" for short, just like we say decimal hundreds. 201 is "two hunhex and one", 2D4 is "two hunhex and deltex-four", and so on, all the way up to FFF - "fost hunhex and fostex-fost".

Incidentally, the modern English quirk of saying a number like 2463 as "twenty-four (hundred), sixty-three" instead of "two-thousand, four-hundred, and sixty-three" works really well for hexadecimal numbers: for example, 1AD4 is often written as 1A D4, and can be read as "ontex-alf (hunhex), deltex-four".

In fact, unlike decimal, in hexadecimal it is far more natural and useful, especially given modern technology, to do groups of two. So we don't even bother with another irregular word like "thousand" - instead, we just go directly to using the same Latin prefixes that large numbers in English use (billion, trillion, quadrillion, and so on), for multiples of two more hex digits:

So 10000 is a bihex, 1000000 is a trihex, 100000000 is a quadrihex, 10000000000 is a quintihex, 1000000000000 is a sextihex, 100000000000000 is a septihex, 10000000000000000 is an octohex, and so on. Technical people will appreciate that we're basically counting bytes here, and that a hunhex is one larger than the maximum value in a 1-byte unsigned integer - ditto bihex for 2 bytes, quadrihex for 4 bytes, octohex for 8 bytes, and so on.

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 37

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 1417

Warnings: Swearing, insinuation of sex

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks.

Chapter Songs: True The Alchemy

****

Hangman

The blue light of breaking dawn peeked through his curtains, adding to the serene, surreal reality Hangman found himself in. Ghost lay beside him in the crook of his arm, her head on his shoulder and arm draped lazily over his torso. He traced mindless patterns on her bare back with one hand while his other rested on her arm. Sleep remained fleeting throughout the night, only allowing him a few precious hours of rest. It was Hangman's own fault. He feared if he fell asleep, that when he awoke, the events of yesterday and last night would be a dream. A cruel, heartbreaking, wishful dream. 

I love you. Ghost's words echoed repeatedly in his head. Hangman couldn't stop it. For so long, he'd ached to hear those words, and then she'd said them. Hangman hadn't quite been able to process it, still silently reeling from seeing the letters he'd written to her- with no intentions of ever relinquishing them to her- in Ghost's hands. Coyote had no right to give them to her, but while Hangman wanted to give his friend a piece of his mind about it, he also recognized that without it, he and Ghost may never have confronted each other about everything.

Ghost twitched in her sleep and whimpered. Hangman placed a kiss on the top of her head, and she settled down. A few moments later, she stirred, squinting at the daylight and letting out an annoyed groan. She shifted slightly up his body to hide her eyes in the crook of his neck.

Chuckling to himself, he whispered, "Good morning."

Ghost only let a tired grunt in response. She had never been a morning person unless it involved getting breakfast, so Hangman didn't take it personally. 

"You hungry?" Hangman queried. 

Ghost nodded but failed to move to let him up. When he pointed this out to her, she mumbled, "I think I'm going to choose starving and staying where I'm at."

Hangman, unable to stop himself from teasing her, said, "Can you say that again? I can't hear you when you're talking into my shoulder."

Ghost twisted her head and rested it on his chest, but didn't look up at him. She repeated what she'd said and added, "You didn't have trouble hearing me talk into your shoulder last night."

Hangman laughed good-naturedly, tugging her closer to him. "That's because you were screaming, not mumbling."

"Shut up." The searing kiss Ghost captured him in took away any seriousness from her statement. God, Hangman couldn't get enough of her. He never believed they'd be like this together, let alone even speaking. And the strangest sensation, the most unfamiliar emotion, settled over him. 

Happy.

He was happy.

Hangman tried to reflect on the last time he felt the way he did now. It didn't take long to figure out it had been before Ghoul died. A time when he and Ghost had briefly returned to Texas, and they sat on the bleachers of their high school football stadium, staring up at the stars, laughing so hard that tears filled their eyes. For the life of him, what they had talked about eluded him, but the memory and feelings remained, and Hangman would savor them forever, including the current moment he found himself in.

Hangman kissed the top of Ghost's head and said, "You relax here. I'm going to cook breakfast."

"No, no, I need to get up. Otherwise, I'll sleep until noon."

"We can go back to sleep after breakfast because God knows we barely got any last night."

Ghost grinned wickedly. "Who says we'll get any after breakfast?"

Hangman debated on saying 'fuck it' and skipping eating if it meant going another round -or two- with Ghost, but the love of his life decided for him, rousing herself out of bed and heading to the bathroom. He forced himself up and threw on some underwear and gray sweatpants before shuffling to the kitchen. He pulled out the bacon, the eggs, and some potatoes and got to cooking, playing some soft country music in the background.

About ten minutes later, Ghost padded in, wearing nothing but her underwear and his t-shirt. He nearly went weak in the knees at the sight but managed to stay upright through sheer stubborness. Ghost sat at the bar and watched him cook. Without a word, he slid a cup of tea over to her, already made the way she liked it with cream and sugar.

Ghost smiled sleepily and said, "I needed this."

"Wake you up for round two?" Hangman asked cheekily.

She snorted softly. "I'm pretty sure it'll be more like round six or seven, but no. It's not just because I got no sleep last night."

Hangman grated the potatoes to prep for the hash browns. "What's up?"

Ghost traced the rim of the cup, staring into the steaming hot liquid. "You know how my mom and dad split up for a bit before I was born?"

"Yeah, your mom came to Cali. Why?"

"She met up with Maverick while she did. They... had a fling."

"Huh. I'm surprised Charlie did that when she was still technically married. I mean, I know your parents were separated, but-"

"That's not the kicker."

"I feel I should stop grating the potatoes for this."

"You might want to sit down, actually," Ghost suggested with mild amusement. Hangman remained standing but braced himself on the counter. "It was roughly nine months before I was born."

"I don't... Oh. OH!" Hangman barely remained standing as the epiphany struck him harder than a plane going Mach 2. "You-you're-"

"Maverick's daughter," Ghost finished, crossing her arms on the counter and resting her chin atop them. "I haven't told anyone else in the Daggers. Not even Juliette. I wasn't planning on anyone finding out, especially Mom and Maverick."

"They know?"

"Yeah. Mom somehow found out, and I know she told Maverick because he tried calling me not long after Mom called me out on it. That was before I came over here, so, you know, was dealing with two existential crises at a time. Figured this one might be more easily solved since it was closer to home."

"Maverick's close to home," Hangman pointed out, tossing the potatoes onto the skillet. "Why not deal with him first?"

Ghost shrugged. "I don't know where to start or what to do about it. With you, I at least had history to go off of."

"And the knowledge that, for better or worse, I just can't say no to you."

Mischief flared in her eyes. "You shouldn't have told me that."

"Food first-" Hangman said, piling her plate with breakfast- "cardio after."

He joined her at the bar, and they said nothing as they devoured their food, starving from yesterday's activities. And last night's. But Hangman didn't mind the silence. It allowed him to wrap his head around everything that had happened and been discovered in the past twenty-four hours, and Hangman couldn't decide what shocked him more: Ghost sitting beside him as more than a friend or the news of Ghost's real father.

Maverick was Ghost's biological dad. 

How... well, he knew how, but still. How would this affect Ghost's relationship with the Captain? How would it affect her relationship with Juliette, who had practically been a surrogate daughter to Maverick? And Rooster, who might as well have been Maverick's son? 

"Trust me, I've had the same thoughts," Ghost said quietly, picking at the last few pieces of hashbrown on her plate.

"How did you-"

"I recognize the expression," she replied simply. "I should probably call my mom back, and Maverick too, for that matter, but I don't want to deal with it. I just... I want to enjoy a sliver of peace and happiness right now."

Hangman grabbed the underside of her stool and pulled her closer to him. "You don't have to face this alone. I'm with you."

"Forever?"

He leaned in and pecked her on the lips. "And always."

Ghost smiled, a blush rising on her cheeks. "Would it be okay if I stayed here a little longer? I don't want to go home yet."

"Of course," Hangman replied immediately, silently pleased not only for his own selfish reasons of keeping Ghost at his side for as long as possible but also because a little voice whispered sinisterly at him that if he let her out of his sight any time soon, he wouldn't see her again for a long time. 

****

Tags: @lgg5989 @shanimallina87 @polikszena @summ3rlotus @icemansgirl1999 @supernaturaldawning @thedarkinmansfield @lyannaforpresident @lapilark @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth @simpofthecentury @shadeops21 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @double-j @bradshawsandbridgetons @catsandgeekyandnerd @peachiicherries @multifandomcnova @fandomsstolemylife00 @bookloverhorses @mak-32 @midnightmagpiemama @luckyladycreator2 @ellamae021 @kmc1989 @atarmychick007 @rotating-obsessions

Chapters: Chp 1 Chp 2 Chp 3 Chp 4 Chp 5 Chp 6 Chp 7 Chp 8 Chp 9 Chp 10 Chp 11 Chp 12 Chp 13 Chp 14 Chp 15 Chp 16 Chp 17 Chp 18 Chp 19 Chp 20 Chp 21 Chp 22 Chp 23Chp 24 Chp 25 Chp 26 Chp 27 Chp 28 Chp 29 Chp 30 Chp 31 Chp 32 Chp 33 Chp 34 Chp 35 Chp 36 Chp 37

If you're not on the tag list and want to be, just let me know :)

[sillyunknownkitkat]

Leon S Kennedy x/+ sibling!reader pt.3

Plot: You're working with him

Tw: Violence, drugs, angst, ...

ps: we really like to break him, huh? Aslo reading the first parts is recommended

Pt 1 - Pt2

If you thought the man was devastated before, you're not ready for this one.

So let's keep most of the scenario of pt2 but switch it up a little.

Leon did attempt that one night but when he saw how devastated you were, he promised he'd never try that again.

So after 1 or 2 more years, you're both out of the academy.

They gave you 10days to get your stuff together before you guys actually start to work.

In that time, you both cuddled, cried a lot, talked, ...

when the end of your "vacation" comes closer he starts to get really anxious again.

He always stays with you. It got so bad that he even waited around in the hallway while you did your stuff in the bathroom.

He'd probably sleep with you or at least in the same room.

Of course, if you guys sleep in the same bed, you put a pillow wall in between the two of you, like homies that are scared to wake up inside one another 😂😭

Anyway...

Picture this:

You're in the hallway leading to the front door, tying up your shoes (these), so it's taking you quite a while since you're making sure everything is tight and secured. Leon was already full dressed which left him time to lecture you on anything he possibly could.

"What's the code if you need backup?" He'd ask. It's the 20th question he asked you since you woke up. He's just making sure you're as safe as you can possibly be.

"huuuuh... 11-99...?" you'd say a bit hesitant. Of course you knew it but he was making you a bit nervous with all the questions.

"You shouldn't be hesitating at all ___." He'd say, a bit surprised and slightly angry.

"I know it, okay?! You're just asking too many questions."

"Shooting?" He'd asks you whole looking you straight in the eye.

"10-71." You'd answer while starting to get upset because he keeps distracting you, and you still haven't toed your laces.

He'd mutter out a little "good."Under his breath before closing his eyes and taking deep breaths.

"Hey Leon. Look at me, please."

He'd do it and wait for you to keep going.

"We'll both be alright, kay? Plus, even if we're not on the same team, we're still in the same company. We'll see each other often, yeah?" You'd say while nodding to emphasise the positive affirmations in your questions.

"Right." He'd say, finally relaxing a little.

"Your turn. What do the letters mean in the phonetic alphabet?" You'd ask just to tease him.

"Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Golf, Hotel, India, Juliett, Kilo, Lima, Mike, November, Oscar, Papa, Quebec, Romeo, Sierra, Tango, Uniform, Victor, Whiskey, X-ray, Yankee, Zulu." He'd say immediately without any hesitation.

"Damn, boy. Relax, I was just teasing. " You'd say, clearly surprised. Of course, you knew them too, but you weren't expecting him to let this out almost automatically.

So after a bit more talking, you're both going into the garage to finally go to work.

After fighting a bit to decide who would drive, he won.

The first day was pretty slow, just a few junkies making a scene in the middle of a popular avenue.

You made them leave, and everything was going great until one of them had an outburst and unexpectedly stabbed you with a used needle.

This caused a lot of commotion, and since this was a rookie mistake, everyone knew about this incident. Including Leon.

He picked you up at the hospital after you had tests and an antibiotics shot.

He was so mad. He yelled at you once you both were in the car.

He called you tons of mean words and kept telling you how stupid you were to let that happen.

Of course, he doesn't mean it, but he was so scared this would end badly.

So you guys had a really bad argument that led you to tears.

He never apologised for the thing he said that night.

It led to the both of you slowly drifting apart.

Eventually, you moved in the quarter while he stayed at home.

You'd still see each other but only at formal reunions.

His alcohol problem got pretty bad. He drinks every night after work until he falls asleep.

Hi, sorry if this is a bit rushed, I'll probably edit this later to add more stuff.

Hope you still liked it tho :)

have a good day/night and be safe everyone <33

[trialbypyre]

https://www.tumblr.com/trialbypyre/764462247541096448/hotel-oscar-whiskey-alpha-romeo-echo-yankee-oscar

Delta Oscar November Tango Tango Hotel India November Kilo Tango Hotel Echo Yankee Delta Oscar November Tango Tango Alpha Lima Kilo Alpha Bravo Oscar Uniform Tango Yankee Oscar Uniform.

..[India ' Delta Golf Echo Tango Tango Hotel Echo Mike Tango Oscar Papa India Papa Echo Delta Oscar Whiskey November]

[Bravo Uniform Tango Foxtrot Oscar Romeo Oscar November Echo, India ' Mike November Oscar Tango Golf Oscar India November Golf Tango Oscar Romeo Uniform India November Alpha November Yankee Charlie Hotel Alpha November Charlie Echo India Hotel Alpha Victor Echo Alpha Tango Papa Romeo Oscar Mike Oscar Tango India Oscar November.]

[Tango Whiskey Oscar, India Tango ' Sierra Hotel Oscar November Echo Sierra Tango Lima Yankee Romeo Echo Alpha Lima Lima Yankee India November Tango Romeo India Golf Uniform India November Golf Tango Oscar Hotel Echo Alpha Romeo Alpha Bravo Oscar Uniform Tango Sierra Oscar Mike Echo Oscar November Echo Lima India Victor India November Golf India November Tango Hotel Echo Papa Yankee Romeo Echo..]

This is a headache to decipher. Uhh... They talk about me? So you are part of the cult. Fun. Why do they talk about me??

One word of advice, run for the hills. Don't get that promotion. But you're not going to listen to me.

Living in the Pyre sucks. Why don't you come find out for yourself? I'd be happy to greet you.

[hope2you]

Calling all my smart friends...and I have A LOT!! (

India Foxtrot.

Yankee Oscar Uniform.

Charlie Alpha November.

Uniform November Delta Echo Romeo

Sierra Tango Alpha November Delta.

Tango Hotel India Sierra.

Charlie Oscar Mike Mike Echo November Tango

Whiskey India Tango Hotel.

Alpha.

Hotel Echo Alpha Romeo Tango.

Tango Hotel Echo November.

Charlie Oscar Papa Yankee.

Alpha November Delta.

Papa Alpha Sierra Tango Echo.

Tango Oscar.

Yankee Oscar Uniform Romeo.

Sierra Tango Alpha Tango Uniform Sierra.

Let’s see who gets it and follows the instructions… ... this is a good one.

[agbpaints]

With a couple very Liao mechs added to my collection recently, I've decided to go and start building myself a force of Capellans. With some vindicators, combat vehicles, and battle armor sorted I started digging around for some more CCAF designs to round out an augmented company. Then I remembered the Men Shen.

Don't let TRO:3060's janky visuals fool you, this walking gym shoe is one of the most technically advanced 'mechs the inner sphere built up to its intro date, Hellespont Industrials and the Confederation's Ministry of Appropriations spared no expense when they outfitted their first domestically designed omnimech. The 'mech is built around the heart and bones of a Magna 330 XL fusion engine seemingly designed expressly for the Men Shen and a 55 ton endo steel frame, with a normal top speed of nearly 100 kph, augmented up to 130 kph in short bursts by the 'mech's integral myomer accelerator signal circuits. This speed is paired with a thick skin, with the mech mounting 11 tons of standard armor, more than 95% the chassis possible total protection and enough for every component except the arms and head to take an AC/20 shot without internal damage. The mech carries 10 double heat sinks and an active probe fixed to the chassis, with the remaining 17 tons available as pod space.

The Men Shen MS1-O mounts a single LRM-15 with an attached Artemis IV fire control unit in its torso and a pair of medium pulse lasers in each arm. Intended as an all range skirmisher, the Prime configuration can leverage its speed to keep the range open while harassing with its missiles before driving in to deliver a finish off foes or pick appart scouts and picket mechs with its quartet of lasers. While the endurance of the LRM is somewhat questionable given it only comes with a single ton of ammunition, the speed at which the MS1-O depletes its missiles is probably a good thing given the XL engine and lack of CASE.

The Men Shen's alternate configurations fall into roughly three groups- either serving as remixes of the Prime's role, specializing in hunting non-mechs in a combined arms environment, or working as medium range strikers and forward operating units.

The Delta and Golf are Prime lookalikes, pairing a long range weapon (an ERPPC and a TSEMP cannon, respectively) with a payload of pulse lasers and SRMs to harass and disable mechs at long range before closing for a finishing blow. Unlike the Prime, these designs lack minimum ranges on their weapons, but the heat build of a full alpha strike is risky enough to a mech without jump jets that both designs effectively work as bracket fire machines.

The Beta and Echo configurations are combined arms killers, packing specialized ballistic weapons in their arms supported by a more generalized torso loadout. In the Beta's case this is a pair of LB2-X autocannons supported by a quartet of ER medium lasers, effectively making it a fast, high tech version if the BJ-1 Blackjack and ideal for hunting VTOL and aerospace assets with its flack guns. This configuration is also possibly the very first inner sphere mech to mount the LB2-X autocannon despite it supposedly being invented in Davion space. Chalk one up for the Maskirovka. Where the Beta makes helicopter pilots sweat, the Echo is an infantryman's nightmare demon. It mounts 8 light machine guns arranged into two arm mounted machine gun arrays, supported by a plasma rifle and 2 medium lasers in the torso. On average this thing will brrrrt an entire platoon of inner sphere ground pounders to mulch with every trigger pull, and the crit seeking/random heat mean it's not too much of a slouch in mech combat either. The 4 tons of ammunition does mean it is worryingly explosive, though.

Finally the Alfa, Charlie, and Foxtrot are the mid range strikers. The Alfa pairs a trio of ER Medium Lasers with an LB 10-X autocannon to deliver a decent ammount of firepower at close and medium ranges, backed up by a TAG laser designator to call in artillery and LRM strikes from the rest of your force. The Charlie and Foxtrot are very much like each other, using pairs of accurate, high damage energy weapons to make for any light mech's worst day. The Charlie chooses a pair of large pulse lasers supported by a Guardian ECM suite and an ER small laser to hunt things like Locusts and Striders while shutting down enemy electronics such as C3 spotters. The Foxtrot swaps the pulse lasers for a pair of snub nosed PPCs linked to a targetting computer to wreak havoc with its disgustingly long short range (270 meters!) and brings a TAG to make sure Marty the Arty will lay low anything its particle cannons can't. The Charlie and Foxtrot's placement of their main guns in the arms also makes them the best versions of the chassis to carry battle armor into fights with.

The Men Shen is best deployed as a 'cruiser' of battlemechs- calable of outfighting anything it can't outrun and outrunning anything that outguns it fairly easily. It will likely operate best at the front of formations to scout and probe the line of battle until the main battleline of mechs arrives, at which point it shifts to outflanking and finishing off wounded units.

Despite its durability, speed, and weapons options, the Men Shen isn't without flaws- the lack of jump jets mean that it can easily get bogged down in cities or other rough terrain and while it's speed and thick armor mean it can tough through some pretty heavy shots, the XL engine means that it won't survive drag out fights for particularly long. The cost is also fairly prohibitive- while most variants run between 1400 and 1700 BV, the MS1-O is a whopping 16.6 million c-bills. For the same price, you could by an entire company of urbanmechs, or a full lance of Vindicator 3L's. This price and the operational fragility of an XL engine paired with unCASEed ammo will likely make campaign commanders balk and relegate the design (like many omnis) to hangar queen status. As a player of mostly pickup games, though, it's a design I'm excited to run

[cosmica-galaxy]

Name: Foxtrot

Image:

Mimic species: Camera mimic, peon (current form), soon to be alpha.

Is it friendly or not: Foxtrot can be quite friendly once he warms up to you but he has some trust issues so it may take a while.

Where can it be found: In an abandoned hardware store, wandering the streets for food, or in the main base of the Alliance (future).

What does it eat and how does it get food: Foxtrot isn’t a very picky eater but he refuses human meat (skibidi meat included unless its been dried or cooked so he can’t tell the difference) and cheese for some odd reason. 

He will primarily hunt wild animals on the outskirts of the city and bring them back to the pack, he usually waits to eat last out of habit but his packmates are working to help him out of that habit. He will occasionally ask Aaron, my human OC and current leader of the pack, to make something using the supplies they do have. 

Which means that Foxtrot will also scavenge for resources and non-perishable foods that are still good.

Does it have any special abilities: Nothing out of the ordinary, he’s just your average camera mimic.

Personal backstory: He was mistreated the entire time he was with his previous pack. Always looked down upon and almost barely got by with food, having to sneak out and catch his own food, most of the time, if he was hungry.

So skip ahead a few years later and he’s out with a hunting party in a long abandoned store. Foxtrot accidentally bumps into one of the delta’s and they finally snap, clawing and biting at Foxtrot. The other members of the pack didn’t do much but they kept Foxtrot from escaping, a few having secretly watched Foxtrot catch food and eat it without bringing any to the pack. After a hefty beating, Aaron steps in and utilizes his powers to scare off the other camera mimics. 

Once the other camera mimics had fled, he tried approaching Foxtrot but Foxtrot hissed and scooted away until his back was against a wall. Aaron did manage to lay a gentle hand on his head but after everything that Foxtrot had been through it scared him even more which caused him to scream in fear. So with the help of Runt, a young TV mimic in Aaron’s pack, she used her powers to help calm Foxtrot. Which helped to a certain degree. 

So Aaron set some supplies down and pulled out a small first-aid kit before trying to treat Foxtrot wounds. They were successful in treating the worst ones and they simply disinfected the smaller ones before putting a band-aid over them. They were almost done when a TV mimic creeped into the area, this one having ran into Aaron before and leaving him injured, so Aaron used his powers to transport himself, Runt, and Foxtrot back to the hardware store. 

So now Foxtrot has slowly been trusting Aaron more and more, he isn’t comfortable enough to let Aaron touch/pet him just yet but progress is being made everyday. -- Here is an entry by @katarikitten​! I feel so bad for poor Foxtrot, he sounds like a very good boi that deserves the world! <: (On the brighter side, I’m glad he’s in the care of Aaron now! : D

[kasperl-ruprecht]

The latest painted addition to the MURDER, a Stormcrow configuration Foxtrot. This is a 3D print based on the MechWarrior 4 design model.

That's two anti-personnel guass rifles and a plasma cannon per arm plus two ER mediums and a ER small per side torso. At 37 pv for skill 4 in Alpha Strike with 2 heat at short, medium, and long range it's a menace. The battle value in Classic for the model is 2227 bv.

Even gave it some turn signals on the backside.

As always, I used fluorescent paint with glow in the dark pigments for the weapon effects and whatnot.

I should also explain out a little bit on the decals chosen. I found a sheet of Gundam: 0080 Zeon stickers and used one of the thunderbolts from the Rick Dom II and put that up to and center. The number 6 on the right lower leg is in reference to the fact the F is the sixth letter of the alphabet. While I'd like to say the F on the upper right arm is for easier identification while playing, it's actually to hide where I had to glue the arm back together when I dropped it while finishing it up.

All and all, very pleased how it turned out.

A link to the Master Unit List page...

[lentimas-lukamon]

yknow i just realized i never dropped the list of pokemon on the ranch! ive been talkin up a storm bout camerupts n other ‘mons but i aint even told yall which ones we got!

so! on the ranch, we have:

26 Camerupt: Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, Golf, Hotel, India, Juliett, Kilo, Lima, Mike, November, Oscar, Papa, Quebec, Romeo, Sierra, Tango, Uniform, Victor, Whiskey, Yankee, and Zulu.

5 Numel: Faris, Hyde, Lorie, Russel, and Blue Cheese✨

2 Bouffalant: Amos and Gus

Several Grumpig and Spoink, the number tends to fluctuate since we raise ‘em more for meat, but we try to keep upwards of around 10 or so.

speaking of which, we also have some ‘mons that aren’t part of the ranch. mostly my moms’ ‘mons, actually. might make a separate post for that if anyone’s interested

[frownyalfred]

Okay I'm sorry, but I literally can't wrap my head around the younger Gotham elites looking down on Jason at this point. Like, yes, Omegas always get the shaft. But ALSO

Jason's clearly a highly educated individual, can outwit everyone in the room, can speak 10+ languages, and apparently he's now an expert dancer at the slow foxtrot.

I'm just trying to imagine being a grandchild of one of those old elite Gotham families. The disapproval and scolding alone those snobby Alphas would be getting, I swear.

Jason is basically everything an old Gotham elite would want in a grandson-in-law. And to top it all off, he's a member of the Wayne Pack. Regardless of his origins, he's an unmated Omega from an old Gotham family and no one's jumping at the chance to try and win his favor?

Yeah, if I was one of those grandparents, I'd disown my Alpha grandkids holy crap

(omfg imagine being the grandparent to the Alpha that pulled the Bear Grylls thing, I'd disown myself)

It is an interesting dynamic. I suppose if we go off what I said in another ask (very dangerous, I am horribly inconsistent) then perhaps the younger generation is the way they are (and treated Bruce that way) because they don't remember what it was like in the older era? When packs were Packs and pack bonds were essential. Older, instinctual times with both a powerful alpha and a powerful omega at the helm.

The grandparents etc remember this time. Maybe they even long for it still. The younger generations don't know what it was like, and simply crave what the media tells them is important: a dominant alpha in power, with others bending to them.